Tarasov looks at the Stalkers. Zef and Skinner are sharing a can of energy drink, while Ilchenko keeps his eyes fixed on the dark corridor and murmurs to himself as if in a delirium. Zlenko is pale and sweating. All look tired and winded.
“We’ll get back to this later… now let’s have a look at that laptop.”
To his dismay, the drive is encrypted. He puts it into his rucksack and takes the pen drive recovered from the first body they encountered, hoping to have better luck with that one. Tarasov is relieved when after plugging it in his PDA, a directory appears with files arranged in chronological order.
29 July, 2014
Kiev is not satisfied with our process. We offered extra payment to motivate the excavators. I hope they will dig faster. This place is a damn warren. To make things worse, someone before us destroyed the access to the lower levels. We have to make our way down by digging and explosives… I can ignore the Academy but my buyers are getting impatient too. They reduce my money each day until I find that artifact, or whatever it is.
15 August
We had a setback today. An excavator started a fight. He screamed something about ruling the world and killed two others before the guards shot him. Again I had to double the excavators’ money. They are becoming anxious.
28 August
Now it’s really about time to enter the lowest level… I already lost tens of thousands of dollars due to the delay. Anyway, even if this goes wrong, they paid me enough for the Gauss gun blueprints before. I don’t have to worry about my old age… I only wish this mission would be over either way, because this place is becoming eerier with every meter we dig deeper.
10 September
Shame on me. Couldn’t bear the pressure. I wanted to bide time and told the buyers everything… two days later they were here. They shot the guards and took over command. Sakharov is so much lost in his research that he didn’t even notice that our output now goes to Beijing instead of Kiev. But what I’m concerned about is that they made a pact with the dushmans… that wasn’t part of the deal. That’s a fucking betrayal. What the hell could I do? I’m powerless. How I wish it could be possible to get away from this cursed place and enjoy my earnings… I would give everything I got for this if I could just get away from here!
11 October
Holy shit. The test subjects broke free. The guards are panicking. What should I do, what should I do… We are holed up in the mess room. Those fucking howls from the depths! They drive me insane. I want to get out. They can’t leave me here! I am their friend! They can’t betray me like this!
Zlenko sighs. “Permission to…”
“Cut the crap, son… we’re way beyond that, you and I. Speak your mind, for God’s sake.”
“Does it still make any sense to go deeper? There are no scientists to save here anymore.”
“That’s no excuse for us to leave this place… we need to search the laboratories and secure any research results we find. Those are our orders. As a matter of fact, the scientists are less important to Kiev than what they found out.”
Zlenko doesn’t look happy.
“Are you still with me, Viktor?”
“I am, komandir. But I’m worried about the Stalkers… I overheard Skinner talking to the black guy about leaving us and going to look for artifacts. We better watch our backs.”
“Agreed.”
“I’m even more worried about Ilchenko… he’s on the edge. He was always a cocky sonofabitch but… not like this.”
“Keep a close eye on him and don’t let him get into a fight with Zef. With all the mutants around, the last thing I need is them shooting each other.” Tarasov stands up and claps his hands. “All right, Stalkers… let’s go down into the labs. Ilchenko, you’re a good point man. Keep it up! Come on guys, look alive!”
“Can I take point for a change?” Skinner asks, taking his shotgun from his shoulder. “I don’t want that machine gun guy grabbing all the artifacts.”
“Suit yourself, Stalker. Ilchenko, stay with me.”
The corridor leading to the laboratories is short, with doors opening into small rooms. Looking inside as they move by, their headlights fall on destroyed field furniture and scattered documents. Tarasov takes a few sheets from the ground. Unsure if the long rows of numbers hold any valuable information, he lets them fall back to the ground.
A metal staircase winding down lies at the end of the corridor. A faint, bluish light glimmers beneath. If Tarasov had to choose between the darkness of the bunker level or the disconcerting light below, he would rather stay in darkness.
“Steady, Skinner… move quietly!”
The Stalker is halfway down the stairway when he suddenly stops. “Vaska,” he shouts, “is that you?”
Tarasov cannot figure the reason for the Stalker’s agitation, but leaps down the stairs to stop him from rushing forward into the large room where the stairs emerge. Wherever he looks, he sees devastated furniture and smashed cabinets, with broken computers and their blown out screens scattered around the floor. It is emergency lamps that spill the cold blue light over the devastated room, lending the room all the ambience of an operating theatre in Hell.
He hears the others descending the metal staircase, but the clunk of boots on metal cannot nullify the faint but discernible voice of a man crying in agony.
“Vaska!” Skinner shouts, his voice echoing in the room. “Where are you? Is that you over there?”
“Stalker! Stay here!”
Ignoring Tarasov’s words, Skinner runs to the other end of the room, where a steel door swings open. Skinner cries out in despair and horror.
“Oh no! Vaska! What did they do to you?”
Cursing, Tarasov moves to pull him back. He has almost reached Skinner when he becomes aware of something that freezes the blood in his veins. As if the sound of a woman’s desperate cry wouldn’t be enough, his eyes widen in horror at what he sees.
“Nooria!” he utters upon the sight of her lying on the floor with blood covering her belly and limbs.
“Fuck!”
Skinner’s voice and the gunshot following it bring Tarasov back to his senses. He grabs the Stalker’s shoulder and drags him away from the door.
“Don’t come closer,” he shouts to the others. “Back up the stairs, move!”
“Let me fucking go,” Skinner shouts, trying to wrestle himself free from Tarasov’s grasp. “It’s Vaska from the Asylum! I must help my friend!”
“It’s just a fucking mutant trying to scare you away!”
The Stalker’s heavy body suddenly becomes lighter as Zef
joins Tarasov in his efforts.
“Hold him,” Tarasov shouts when they reach the staircase, taking a grenade from his ammunition belt. Nooria’s defiled corpse becomes clearer with each step he takes toward the door but, overcoming his horror, he leaps forward and tosses the grenade into the next room. A painful howl follows the explosion. Then all falls quiet. The apparitions disappear.
“I saw Vaska…” Skinner bemoans as Zef eases his choke-hold. “He was my best buddy… I believed him dead but I saw him… first he was in a fucking cage, and then bound to an operating table with fucking pipes and catheters screwed into his head…”
“It was just your imagination,” Tarasov explains, but his own voice is trembling too. “The mutant wanted you to run away in fear. It’s over. Vaska is fine!”
“How can you be sure of that? We must find him! Maybe he is still alive somewhere in here…”